


Hideouts

by VeronicaRich



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 03:13:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1065091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeronicaRich/pseuds/VeronicaRich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alcoves, alleys, and an odd lead-up to that first highly-rewarding kiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hideouts

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Metalkatt for help with some Rimmer dialogue.

That first time Rimmer nearly kissed him, he’d dragged Lister into an alcove between two odd-looking forklifts, out of the line of enemy fire. They faced, almost pressing together, and Lister had no time to prepare as Rimmer dipped his nose and slid it alongside his companion’s. He did have enough time to inhale the questionable aftershave or cologne or whatever cloying toilet water the man had splashed on or incorporated into his programming before Rimmer froze.

“Sorry, Listy,” he breathed, slightly panting, his hard-light skin still warm against Lister’s face for a couple of seconds before pulling away. “Sorry.”

He didn’t even have time to say “It’s okay” (was it?) before gunfire pierced the quiet of the small warehouse, and then they were perfectly still, only breathing, not talking, trying to stay silent and invisible and generally nonexistent as far as the super-soldiers were concerned. He realized Rimmer’s hand still cupped his right elbow in an aborted sort-of embrace but it seemed more to hold him in place, and still, than affection.

It wasn’t until late that afternoon in their rented suite he had opportunity to broach it. “So …” he opened, snagging a beer from the tiny kitchenette fridge, “what’s up with the snogging?”

He popped the top and sipped the escaping foam, eyes never leaving Rimmer’s face, bent somewhat toward the tablet he was tapping away on. “Um, that,” was all he said for a bit, not looking up, apparently finishing whatever Ace ship log entry this was. “Autonomic response. Was something I picked up while I was gone, out working. I found by some accident, don’t remember where, that if I was doing a rescue, giving someone a quick snog tended to calm them down and make them listen better.” Lister didn’t fail to notice Rimmer hadn’t specified gender, then recalled something he’d once said about Ace “being at the service of all” – rather moodily.

“Sort of a distraction, then?” Rimmer made a noise of agreement and paused to pick up his tea for a long sip. He looked up, but only met Lister’s eyes in sideways fashion. “Was just curious.”

“Not likely it’ll happen again, now I’m aware of it and you start working regularly with me. I’ll get used to you instead,” he explained. That time he did meet Lister’s eyes, the corners of his lips slightly turned up. “I’ll let you do the snooging.”

“Snooging?”

“Snog-soothing. The girls’ll like it.” He gave his attention back to his tablet. “Probably some of the blokes, as well. Long as you keep your teeth brushed.”

Over the next few months, they found themselves in a few more alcoves, some better hidden than others. To his word, Rimmer never attempted it again, but it didn’t leave Lister’s mind. Or his sense memory. So when they were wedged between rows of crates with a small pouch of antidote one time, Lister looked up to find his Ace looking oddly tense and worried. Without thinking, he stretched up and gave him a quick kiss, tilting his head so their noses barely touched. When he pulled away, it took a second for Rimmer’s eyes to open, and he frowned at him. He might’ve spoken if a loud clash-bang nearby hadn’t alerted them to the agent closing in.

A day later, once they’d escaped with the skin of their teeth and jumped to the right reality to deliver the venom antidote three hours ahead of deadline, they were put up in their own temporary apartment near the queen’s in her fortress. Once again, they were across from each other at a table, both of them finishing up generous portions of lamb for dinner this time, Lister chewing his last bite as he stared out the window across an expansive green courtyard. “What was up with the kiss, then?” he heard.

He caught himself before saying, “Huh?” Instead, he shrugged. “Worked, right?” Rimmer’s expression said he’d have to do better. “You looked like you needed it.”

“How does someone look when they look like they need to be kissed?”

“When you look like it again,” Lister answered instead, standing up to carry his plate to the maid’s cart left for them, “I’ll do it again.”

Rimmer pursed his lips in thought. “You know, I think that’s more frustrating than a made-up story. At least I’d have something with that.”

“The real question is why you didn’t punch my lights out.”

“No reason to.”

“Used to, you would’ve – well, you’d have wanted to, talked endlessly about doing it, but not done it,” Lister pointed out. “You _would_ have gone on a twenty-minute rant about ‘gay little fairy nancys’ and so on.”

Rimmer sighed. “There’s more important things to worry about – like whether we’re going to be able to get out of danger and make the delivery.”

“Exactly. Which is why I did it – you were dithering and I shocked you out of your indecision.”

An odd expression crossed Rimmer’s face – wistfulness, Lister thought, but at what he wouldn’t have known. “Well, I can’t argue that.” Rimmer finished the last bite of his own meal. “It did work.”

“I mean, it’s something you’re used to as part of a routine,” he said, sitting again across from Rimmer, picking up his tea and taking a swig. “Maybe you perform better with it, without realizing? I don’t know.”

“More like whenever I did it, it gave me the opportunity to observe what was going on and think of any solution that might present itself. Not like I had to close my eyes.”

Lister thought of his reaction to Lister’s kiss and kept his smile hidden. “Your Bond move, eh?”

“It worked, most of the time. And usually I could get at least one person to safety by nibbling on their ear and asking them to do exactly as I said, if nothing else.”

“I could save you the worry of such a burden by pointing out I don’t need to be convinced to move my own ass out of the line of fire,” Lister said, amused.

“One of the many reasons I like having you as a partner. I can count on you to be intelligent.”

The compliment seemed natural enough, unforced. “So you don’t have to worry about snogging me in alcoves.”

“No, this is true … which means you don’t, either,” Rimmer countered.

“True enough.” He got up again smoothly, grabbing his teacup as he exited the room. “Maybe it means I won’t again. Or will. Never know.” He smirked as he got out of sight of Rimmer, who he knew he’d confused with the doublespeak.

The next time Lister gave him a quick kiss was when they were crouched under a semi-high shelf. Rimmer looked as confused as he had the first time, but Lister cheerfully offered no explanation; and when he heard their pursuers coming, he grabbed Rimmer’s hand and crawled out, then ran.

A third time, he’d been seized and thrown in a jail cell. As Rimmer stared balefully at the metal bars, muttering about how he couldn’t find an opening to figure out how to pry, Lister grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him close, giving him the quick kiss. “I have faith,” he told the hologram – and was rewarded a few minutes later when they both managed to figure out how to locate the hinges and unseat them.

And then one night, when Rimmer was unkempt and exhausted and after a few whiskeys at one of his favorite dimensional dives, Lister jokingly pulled him into the alley behind it, between the pub and another building, and given him a quick kiss. “You _really_ look like you need it, man,” he explained, knowing how horrendously things had gone just a few hours before.

Rimmer gave him an annoyed, intense look … and the next thing Lister knew, he was pressed into cool brick, that mouth on his, robbing him of both breath and good sense. He could hear his own small noises as he returned the kiss, not caring about Rimmer’s unshaven stubble; truth be told, it felt good with the heat of his skin and the pliancy of his lips. Denied so long of attention, his body arched desperately against Rimmer, who kicked a leg between his ankles and rubbed his thigh against Lister’s crotch. “Ohmyeah,” he gasped, chewing gently on Rimmer’s tongue. “Go’n.”

A quick question, permission given, then he felt fingers working at his fly and a hand slide in to palm his cock. Rational thought went out the door entirely when those lips moved to his throat, then disappeared entirely as Rimmer knelt on the ground in front of him. It was dark, but he could see the top of his messy curls and the long line of the ridge of his nose, and he watched as the man licked around the head of his erection, swirling endlessly before opening wide and moving forward to swallow it halfway at once.

He tried to be quiet, putting his head back and closing his eyes, concentrating on not pulling Rimmer’s hair as he performed obscenely artistic maneuvers with his tongue and teeth on the overly sensitive member. Lister nearly lost his balance despite the solid wall behind him, when Rimmer deep-throated him and pushed his forehead into Lister’s exposed abdomen; the feel of that soft hair on his skin burned almost more than the millions of nerve endings exploding along his penis. _I want his skin on mine everywhere,_ he thought, nearly moaning. He licked his lips, still damp from their prolonged kissing, and arched when Rimmer cupped his backside.

“Rimmer,” he gasped, as climax rushed him, “Arn, you need to-” He pushed at his head, trying to get him off in time, but with a sort of bleary amazement he saw the man instead lean back to look up at him, cock still in his mouth, and watch him as Lister felt the first rush of ejaculate speed into his throat. Those hazel eyes got a little wider, then closed as Rimmer bent back to work, sucking and swallowing, tilting his forehead forward into Lister’s tummy again. Lister gritted his teeth and stiffened his fingers against clenching and yanking through the best of it. When the rushes passed, he settled his fingers into that thick auburn hair and stroked his scalp gently. “Oh, wow,” he managed. “God …”

He closed his eyes until he felt Rimmer move and the warmth emanating off his standing body once again. He opened them slowly, looking at the man before him and trying to find the words that wouldn’t chase him off – interdimensional space hero or not, he was still Rimmer and looked as unsure as he had with any other unfamiliar thing he’d ever done while Lister had known him. Lister watched him lick his lips and felt a surge of lust and affection at the reason why, and said, safely enough, “That … was a surprise.”

Rimmer’s expressions cycled, before he finally settled on a serious quirked eyebrow and an exaggerated posh-accented, “ _Nobody_ expects the Spanish fellatio.”

It took only a second for Lister to process the bizarre irreverence. “Probably because I’m pretty sure it’s Italian,” he retorted, still panting.

They eyed each other a few beats, in silence, before one, then the other, burst into laughter. Rimmer belatedly covered his face with his hands, still guffawing, and Lister pulled him close, delighted. He felt Rimmer push his face into his neck when he curled his arms around his shoulders and turned his head to plant a kiss on his temple – still snorting laughter.

“Well,” he finally managed, philosophically, “hiding out from the enemy’s about to get a whole lot more interesting.”


End file.
